Bit, 2022
live performance, duration 5 minutes
Sweet iron, mild steel, video, acrylic nails, patina, smoked figured eucalyptus veneer.
She wants to talk about photographs. She wants to say:
I like to imagine slug-snail tentacles unfurling like a punctum, extending out into space. I like to prise the picture from its shell, pull its soft body out.
She wants to lean in closer over the table, right up to your ear and whisper:
I’m gonna suck this punctum up into my mouth and let it coat my gullet. I’m gonna take the little snail and swallow it down whole. It's funny to think of a hole as a lack. Have you ever put your fingers inside one?
Bit is a quiet performance, it’s tender but uncomfortable, a little sexy.
Bit is about the feeling of being obsessed with other people's photos. It is a physical attempt to become one with a photograph. The performer chomps at the bit onto which is projected a video of their fingers running over glossy pages of photographs.
Bit explores the queer gaze, a desire for images of one’s own desire. The screen is made from mild steel, known in equestrian circles as ‘sweet iron’ due to its use in horse bits. Supposedly the steel rusts in the horse’s saliva and tastes sweet, compelling the animal to accept the bit, and submit to the rider’s control.
During Bit the performer is locked in an enduring kiss. We watch their hands caress the metal screen as though it's an unyielding lover. Polished fingernails stylise and weaponise the hands, exaggerating their movements.
The initial performance of the work is stippled with symbolism questioning what makes something visibly queer? But each performer brings something different to the work. Lucas with his bitten nails, wrists looped in silver, wears the artist's rings and iridescent polish on his fingers, trying on her yearning for size.